


Eat Your Words

by KillerKueen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2019 (Once Upon a Time), getting hot and bothered over scrabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21885856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerKueen/pseuds/KillerKueen
Summary: Ruby is so done watching Belle and Gold ineffectually flirt every morning. With a little help from Gold’s son, a Christmas miracle happens (in the form of sex but Neal never signed off on that).
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 16
Kudos: 114





	Eat Your Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrs_Stiltskin (Lady_Belles_Teacup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Belles_Teacup/gifts).



> Written for the Rumbelle Secret Santa exchange on tumblr. I really liked writing this, and I hope you enjoy the silliness. ❤️🌟
> 
> Beta’d by the absolute HERO paradigmparadoxical

Belle cursed as she peeled off the stockings she had just pulled on. It was the pair with the hole in the thigh, the small but infuriatingly too-big-to-be-within-her-skill-range-to-fix hole at the bottom turning into a run that stretched to her knee. Belle dug through her drawer, looking for a new pair.

She thought she had thrown the ruined ones out when she first lost the battle against the bookshelf, why were they—no, her drawer was empty, she hadn’t put her laundry away yet—she hadn’t shaved in weeks, she couldn’t go out with bare legs—and even if she could, it was December in Maine—she was from Australia for gods sake—

Belle forced herself to take a deep breath. Still clutching the tights, she made a decision.

She would wear pants.

There.

Problem solved.

It meant unzipping and exchanging her pretty green dress for a purple striped top, but at least she knew exactly where her slacks were. And she could still wear her red heels.

So what if she stayed up late to finish what proved to be an unsatisfying book? So what if she slept through her alarm? So what if the shipment of new books that was due Monday still hadn’t arrived today, four days later? Belle was wearing her best pair of high-heeled shoes with a shirt that didn’t bunch up when she reached for a high shelf and everything was _fine_.

Still, Belle quickened her pace to the diner. Her phone, traitor that it was, showed the time as nearly half past eight, which was much too late for Belle’s liking. But when she pushed open the door to meet with the smell of bacon grease and cinnamon, she saw a vacant counter. No one was loitering by the register, either. Which didn’t tell her anything she wanted to know.

“I was about to send out a search party,” Ruby teased as she slid past, arms full of dirty plates.

“I haven’t missed him, have I?” Belle hung her jacket up on one of the hooks by the door, her purse safely behind it.

“Good morning to you as well!” Ruby’s voice was bright with sarcasm. “Why, it _is_ a lovely day.”

Belle claimed a stool, shooting her friend a smile. “The usual, please, when you have a moment.”

“Yeah, yeah. The paper is by the register,” Ruby said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

The Storybrooke Times was everything one could expect from a local paper; national stories interspersed with smaller, locally written reports on events and things going on in the community. The best thing about it was in the final pages, often next to the movie listings for the single theatre in town. 

The crossword.

Belle hadn’t looked twice at a crossword until moving to Storybrooke. She hardly looked twice at a newspaper, for that matter, but one sunny morning had found her at the counter without a book. After nicking a pen, Belle decided she had plenty of time to kill and how hard could a crossword really be.

Twenty minutes in and Belle came to the conclusion that whoever the Storybrooke Times outsourced their puzzles from were a bunch of sadists. But Belle liked winning far more than giving up, and the sense of accomplishment she got as she filled in each square was satisfying enough for her to try again the next day. And the next.

That’s how it was the morning Mr. Gold walked in. Belle was at the counter, eyes wandering as she thought about a clue and suddenly there was the beast of Storybrooke himself. He ordered coffee and stood waiting for it, fingers tapping the counter.

Having had no dealings with him, hardly any contact at all, she wasn’t sure what to make of his reputation. But to get to be in a position to own most of a town, surely he knew a thing or two?

“A melancholy instrument,” she said before she could lose her nerve.

He turned to look at her, eyebrow raised. His eyes were bottomless.

“Four letters,” Belle said. 

And very brown. And almost impatient, but she watched them flick down to her newspaper, saw her question moving about his head. “Oboe,” he said, accent slight around the single word.

She thanked him with a smile, and bid him a good day as he left, coffee cup in hand. Belle assumed that was the end of it, but he was there again the next day. And the next. He’d make small talk while he waited, and help her with a word or three.

Gold never stayed for breakfast, which was why the timing was so important. 

Belle quickly scribbled her first answer in the boxes, trying not to be obvious about how closely she was watching the door. _Bone that’s part of a cage_ , three letters. Easy. _Rib_.

When a mug was set down, she looked up. “You didn’t answer me.”

“No, Belle,” Ruby said with forced patience. “Gold hasn’t come in yet, god.”

“Sorry, but he hasn’t shown in the last few days. I just want to be sure I didn’t miss him.”

“He used to not come in at all, you know.”

Belle wrote in the next answer. _Nag to death_ , six letters. _Badger_. “But what if he’s stopped coming? What if he doesn’t have time anymore for… crosswords.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow, unfooled. “Then you go to his shop, sit him down in his back room, and make him do the crossword with you there.” She sniffed. “Several times, even.”

“I get the feeling we’re talking about two entirely different things.” Belle put her head down, ignoring her blush. Certainly, she was pretending not to picture in exact detail what Ruby was suggesting.

“Are we?” Ruby smiled with all her teeth. “As if that’s not what you’re thinking the moment he opens his mouth.”

Belle was just about to reply—and it was going to be very clever, probably—but the door opened, and a familiar figure in a long black coat with a cane entered through it.

“Mr. Gold!” Belle said, louder than she meant to. “Good morning!” She ignored the look Ruby sent her.

“Miss French,” Gold greeted. “Hey.” His smile was small, but genuine, so unlike the cool politeness he more often than not greeted people with.

She sat up straighter on her stool, feeling warm to her toes.

“Missed you these last few days, Gold,” Ruby said with a look at Belle. “Coffee to go?”

“Ah—no, thank you, Miss Lucas,” he said, turning to gesture to an unfamiliar man. Belle hadn’t noticed him come in.

Ruby’s eyebrows shot up. “Hey, man. Long time no see.”

Belle shot Ruby a questioning look.

“This is Neal,” Gold said to Belle. He stepped slightly to the side, as if showcasing a work of art. “My son.”

His hair was the same dark brown as his father’s, but shorter. He had a similar build, but was a little taller. His face was much more open than Gold’s was, and seemed ready to smile without much provocation.

“Hello, Neal,” Belle said politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“Miss French is the librarian now,” Gold said. “Took over for Mrs. Potts when she retired.”

Ruby reached for some menus, holding them out to Neal. “How’s school? Finals kick your butt?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t gotten the score for a few of my papers yet, but I probably did alright.”

“I have no doubt you aced it all, nerd.” She gestured to the bank of booths. “Sit anywhere. I’ll bring some coffee, yeah?”

“Thanks, Ruby.”

Instead of following his son to a table, Gold hesitated, twisting his cane against the tile. “Miss French,” he finally said. “Have a lovely day.”

“You too,” she said weakly, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on her face.

She watched as he slid into the booth across from Neal, his back to her. She didn’t mean to stare (the silver in his hair was striking in the light from the hanging fixtures, and his shoulders were a defined line, even in his suit and, and, and) but then Neal glanced her way. Their eyes met, and Belle stared long enough to see his eyebrows raise in question. Embarrassed, Belle turned away.

Ruby was looking at her, too, something close to amusement on her face.

“You never told me Gold had a son,” Belle hissed.

“What are you mad at me for? He’s the one that didn’t tell you.” She moved to grab the pot of coffee and two mugs. “Does it matter?”

“Of course not,” Belle sighed, resigned. It was more the absolute proof that she didn’t know anything about Gold, and likely didn’t register at all beyond being the girl at the counter with her morning crossword. She looked down at her next clue. _As a result_ , four letters. _Ergo_.

“He went off to college a few years ago and hasn’t been back since.”

“I see.” Belle took a sip of her tea. 

Ruby raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing as she took up her tray.

“Wait, wait.” Belle said. She looked down at the newspaper. No point sulking, just because Gold wasn’t available; she had a crossword to finish. “Heavenly body, six letters. Would you—but only ask if he seems—available? I don’t want to bother him.”

“Oh my god, Belle,” Ruby said, “you have it bad.”

“There’s an R at the end, I think,” she said with as much dignity as possible.

Belle was tempted to keep an eye on Ruby, but she didn’t want to risk more eye contact with Neal. He seemed nice, but giving him the wrong impression would be…unfortunate.

Belle tried to concentrate on her puzzle, tapping her pen softly on the counter, occasionally taking a sip of her tea. It was agonizing to wait for Ruby.

Belle was just about to risk turning around when Ruby sauntered back. Ignoring Belle completely, she went straight for the computer to punch in the order. After looking back and forth from the screen to her pad far more than was necessary, she finally— _finally_ —looked at Belle.

“You have smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Ruby—”

“Meteor.”

She sniffed. Scribbled in the answer. It fit, of course. 

Gold never gave her a wrong answer; sometimes he’d smile when he knew a particularly tough clue, his gold tooth peeking out from under the curve of his lip. Once, when she’d misspelled patient, he had leaned into her space to look over her shoulder. She caught the smell of his cologne, spicy and expensive and him.

A glance couldn’t hurt, surely. She peeked over her shoulder, at his table, and—she made eye contact with Neal, who was staring right at her.

Mortified, she whipped her head back around. Her face was as red as her heels.

“You wanted extra bacon, extra crispy, right Neal?” Ruby yelled across the diner. Her lips pursed.

Belle heard a cough. “Uh, yeah Ruby. Thanks.”

The cooked called out an order and Belle stared unseeing at her paper.

“Here.” The plate Ruby put in front of her was stacked high with pancakes, sliced bananas and blueberries on top. “Not your usual, but—” She shrugged before taking up the coffee pot to make a round of refills.

Belle sighed, feeling drained of all the energy she had burst in with. So what if she had lost the motivation to finish her crossword, or that the man she was hopelessly in love with didn’t have time to say more than a friendly hello? She had a plate of pancakes and a friend that knew when she needed them. Today was going to be fine.

* * *

Ruby, in the middle of stacking clean cups from the back, turned to the door when she heard it open. It wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, and the morning rush had long cleared out.

“Neal,” she greeted. “Didn’t you eat enough at breakfast?”

He sat on the stool in front of her. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the counter. “This morning was weird,” he said without preamble.

Ruby thought of Belle on her stool, staring unseeing at the newspaper. In all her years at the diner, she had never seen someone eat pancakes so sadly.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered.

“Tell me then.”

Ruby put her hand on her hip, considering. Neal was a good kid, always had been, and anything she said about Belle wouldn’t be met with mockery. But Belle valued her privacy, and seemed a little unsure of Neal this morning. Or mostly surprised. Definitely embarrassed.

“Did you know,” Neal said when the silenced stretched, “that my father has recently started doing crosswords?”

She shrugged. “He’s Belle’s go-to when she gets stuck.”

“No, Ruby,” he leaned forward further, lowering his voice like he was sharing trade secrets. “He sits at the kitchen table, newspaper spread in front of him, and looks up the answers on his phone. He hardly even tries.”

Ruby blinked. “You mean—”

“And then he studies the answers. Like he’s memorizing them. Which I thought was weird, but just brushed it off as, I don’t know, brushing up on vocabulary before the dementia kicks in, but then we came in this morning—”

“I _knew_ it!” she said, slamming both her open palms on the counter. Neal jumped. “I knew she asked for answers that she already knew!”

It was his turn to stare at her blankly.

“Belle is the smartest person I know. As if she doesn’t know ‘boast of some shampoos.’”

“Boast of—what?” Now Neal was thoroughly confused.

“‘Low PH’ was the answer, by the way, which was a really stupid clue anyway, and Belle already had the L and the P, but of course Gold knew it.” Ruby scoffed. “He cheats, she plays dumb. God, I hate them both.”

“No, you don’t,” Neal said cheerfully. “It is a weird mating ritual, though.”

“Rituals end, Neal,” she said flatly.

“How long have they been—“

“ _Months_ , Neal.”

He swallowed a laugh at her dramatics. “Is it really so bad?”

She crossed her arms, leaning back. “Not really. Gold behaves himself when Belle’s around, and it’s cute, how wound up she gets.” 

There was a pause as Ruby welcomed a new table. Neal waited until after she had put their order in the computer.

“Papa won’t make the first move.”

She snorted. “Belle would rather clear out the library basement than confront Gold about her feelings.” If this morning was any indication, Belle would likely rather bury herself alive than have that conversation.

“What if we,” Neal gestured between them. “I don’t know, give them a little push.”

“Why are you suddenly so invested?”

“Come on, it’s Christmas.”

Ruby gave him a look, completely unconvinced.

“Look, my heart got kicked in the dick, alright? My cheating girlfriend broke up with me and kicked me out of the apartment. When I crawl back here with my tail between my legs, instead of undivided attention, Papa’s preoccupied and growling at me for embarrassing the librarian this morning.” Neal swiveled a little on his stool. His shoulders were hunched forward, arms on the counter again. “Besides, this is the first time he’s shown any interest in a relationship since my mom dipped, and... I don’t know. There must be something special about Belle.”

“You’re damn right there is.” Ruby plucked a brownie out of the display case. She placed it on a napkin by his elbow. “That really blows about your ex. You’re better off without her.”

“Papa and I are going apartment hunting before the new semester starts.” 

The cook called out an order, and she left him with his brownie.

When she returned, a glass of water was the next thing she placed in front of him. “So what’s your plan?” she asked.

“I was thinking of playing the sad dumpee and convince dad I need a small party surrounded by friends.” 

“Mainly me and Belle.” She didn’t bother hiding her lack of awe.

“Only you and Belle. Don’t give me that look, it makes sense if you think about it. Since August moved to New York, you’re the closest thing I have to an old high school friend.”

“I was three years above you.”

“And Papa knows that you wouldn't want to come to the house alone,” Neal continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “So, obviously, you’d bring someone you know, and bonus points if you’re not dragging her along behind you.”

Ruby had to admit it wasn’t faulty reasoning, even if it wasn’t exactly sound. “And what will we do at this party?”

“Drink.” He said the word as if Ruby asked what day it was.

“Oh, Neal. Belle will never go for it, and frankly, neither will Gold.” She put her head in her hands. Belle was far more interested in books and quiet evenings in than drinking parties, and Ruby had a feeling Gold was much the same. These two would need a good incentive, something to actually do with their time, and Ruby hoped that she had it in herself to make the sacrifice.

“Because I love you, and I love Belle, and I am quickly learning to tolerate Gold, I will do this one thing for them.”

“What do you mean?”

Ruby stood up straight. She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. She wore the look someone might if she were pretending to lead an army but knew she was facing a guillotine. “We're going to play Scrabble.”

* * *

Belle needed to expand her wardrobe. Not that it really mattered. Probably. In any case, everything she owned was appropriate for the library. Still, it was hard not to wish she had bought that slinky emerald dress she had been looking at a few months ago. The blue lace number with the red belt would have to do. Perfectly respectable. She didn’t have to impress anyone.

Well. Maybe she didn’t _have_ to, but she certainly wanted to. Gold was mysterious, wicked smart, and she desperately wanted to engage him in a conversation that lasted longer and was much deeper than scant hints and word counts. There was something about him that drew her in, with his perfectly tailored suits and charming smile. And his hair that didn’t quite curl and the ends. If she had something that would catch his eye, she would certainly be wearing it.

Then again, she didn’t have to wait for him to make a move. The outfit wasn’t perfect, but she could pull out the red lipstick. If he demonstrated even the slightest bit of interest she could make a move herself. Nothing was stopping her.

Belle heard Ruby whistle when she walked down the stairs from her apartment. She nodded in approval at the bottle of red wine Belle had brought. It would pair nicely with the the box of leftover sweets from the diner that was currently tucked under her arm.

“You look hot. Gonna get Gold’s attention tonight, eh?”

“I figured it would be appropriate to dress up for a party,” Belle said, feigning innocence.

“It’s gonna be fun,” Ruby said with her wide, wolf smile. “I’ll make sure if it.”

* * *

It had been snowing since the afternoon, and the fresh snow crunched underneath their boots as they walked through downtown. Belle hadn’t minded when Ruby suggested they walk to Gold’s; it wasn’t a long walk and she enjoyed seeing the flurries of white illuminated in the streetlights.

“Have you been to his house before?” Belle asked, voice barely muffled by the thick scarf she wore.

“Nah,” Ruby said. “Everyone knows where Gold lives, but I don’t know anyone who’s been inside. Doesn’t keep that much company.”

They continued walking in a comfortable silence, until Ruby nudged her and said, “Gold’s is the pink one.”

The salmon pink Victorian, to be exact. The lawn was buried but Belle could imagine how neatly trimmed it was kept when not under several inches of snow. She wondered what flowers he grew when it wasn’t winter.

The house was intimidating. The place was huge, palatial even, if she were the sort of person who was swayed to hyperbole. Ruby nudged her out of her reverie.

“Let's go in. My feet are freezing.”

“We could also go home. We have a very nice bottle of wine we could split.” Belle waved said bottle.

“If you want to walk all the way back we’re at least going to thaw out first.”

Belle didn’t really have anything to say to that; she hadn’t been able to feel her face for the last block or so. She adjusted her coat. It was silly to be nervous anyway. And she didn’t run from anything, certainly not antiques dealers and their nice houses.

Ruby went ahead, bouncing up the stairs and ringing the bell. The door opened almost immediately. Gold stood there, nodding a hello before stepping out of the way so she could enter. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, only his shirt sleeve and a waistcoat. She had never seen him so dressed down before, or knew that he apparently wore sleeve garters; the golden bands caught the light when he moved, just so. Like halos, but for his elbows. The thought made her giggle.

“Are you going to come in, dear?” he called to Belle, who was still hovering at the bottom of his porch. “You’re letting the warm air out.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Belle shuffled in. “Your home is beautiful,” she said lamely. Beautiful was accurate, if understated. The furniture was old in style, but well kept. Paired with the numerous art pieces and various decorations, it could be called cluttered if everything weren’t arranged just so. It was an appealing sort of orderly chaos.

“Thank you.” He smiled as if she had given him the highest of compliments. “May I take your coat?”

Belle automatically brought her arms up to unzip, only to be stymied by the wine bottle.

“Oh, uh, I brought you some wine.”

Gold took it, inspecting the label. His eyes narrowed, and her heart rate sped up. Why didn’t she consider the possibility of him being a wine guy? Of course he was a wine guy. _Connoisseur_ was likely on his birth certificate.

“Not a bad choice, given the options we have here,” he said eventually. “You have a good eye.”

Belle blew out a breath. That was the first battle won. She relieved herself of her winter coat, hanging it on the rack he pointed out.

When she turned around, he was staring at her.

“What?”

He started, and Belle noticed his grip on the neck of the bottle tightening. He coughed. “Oh, it’s nothing.” He twisted his hand back and forth. “You, uh, look lovely.”

Belle brushed her hands down her dress, pleased (second victory won, thank you very much), and that’s when she noticed. Gold’s shirt was a deep navy blue, his tie a rich burgundy with a pattern she could just make out as paisley.

“We match,” she said, delighted.

His smile was a small thing. “So we do.”

Ruby poked her head out of what was presumably the kitchen, holding a plate of snacks. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

“Eager to lose?” Neal asked, slipping past her with wine glasses. He lead the way into the dining room.

“Like you’re one to talk,” she said, following.

Gold sighed, resigned to what his night was going to be. “Is Miss Lucas not a fan of board games?”

“Board games are fine, it’s just she’s refused to play this particular one with me ever since our first girl’s night.”

“Is Scrabble not her speed?” He held out his arm, elbow bent, like a gentleman caller about to walk his beau on a tour around the garden.

They were only headed to the next room, but Belle was charmed despite herself. Her hand nestled perfectly into the crook; she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

“No, it’s just out of the three games we played, she never came close to beating me.” She bit her lip, feeling just a trace of smugness. “She actually forfeited the third game after I used all seven of my tiles. Twice.”

“A worthy opponent.” He nodded, as if he expected nothing less. “Neal and I would play on a scaled point system when he was a lad. But now if we play it’s only because he’s humoring me.”

They had reached the dining room, where Ruby was laying out plates of cheese and crackers, and another bottle of wine. Neal had just popped the lid off the game.

“I heard that,” he said, shooting his father a look.

Gold led her to the table. “You make good practice.” He pulled out a chair for Belle, seamlessly depositing her in it. It was unnecessary, and almost out of place, but Belle still felt a flutter in her stomach. She noticed Ruby watching her, eyebrow raised, smirk firmly in place.

“The disrespect,” Neal said to Ruby, shaking his head.

“Smug,” she agreed. “Glass of wine, Belle? Gold?”

“You serve people all day, Ruby,” Belle said. She was about to stand, but Gold waved her off.

“She’s right. Make Neal do it.” He walked around the table, carefully pulling out the chair across from Belle and sitting down. He winked at her, and she smiled, biting her lip.

“Don't have to tell me twice.”

“The disrespect,” Neal repeated, but he was laughing.

Ruby took the set next to Gold. She pulled the snacks—cheese and crackers, and a separate plate of fruit—closer to her. The box of sweets was there, too, and it looked like Neal had made a dent when he and Ruby were alone in the kitchen.

Belle took out the board and tiles. Soon, everyone had their seats, their starting letters, and a glass of wine.

Everyone but Neal.

“Do you not like red?” Belle asked. “I wish I had known, I’d have brought a white, or a nice rosé.”

“I’m not a big fan of wine,” Neal said with a shrug, smile as affable as ever.

“We split a bottle for dinner last night,” Gold said, eyes flickering back and forth from Belle to his son. “You should have said something.”

“Oh,” he said, “It’s just that it’s snowing, you know?”

“Why does that matter? You’re not planning on going anywhere.” Gold narrowed his eyes.

Ruby cleared her throat. “Here’s the thing,” she said loudly as she arranged her tiles. “I can’t keep up with you smarties. No sense denying it.”

“Sounds like you’re giving up,” Neal said, happy to change the subject.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It means I get to use my phone to look up words.”

Belle pursed her lips. “You can use a dictionary to check if a word is real, or check the spelling. No word finding sites.”

“Word finding sites?” Gold asked.

“There are websites that let you type in the letters you have, and then they’ll pop up all the different words you can make with them,” she said, her disapproval evident.

“Which is also called cheating, and I would never,” Ruby said innocently. “But if I’m going to keep pace, I need some sort of handicap.”

“You’re not unintelligent, Miss Lucas,” Gold said quietly.

Ruby frowned, looking for the insult. Unable to find one, she said, “I didn’t say I was. Just, you know, give me some letters and suddenly I forget every word I know, but give me a sudoku puzzle and I can finish it in ten minutes.”

“Is that good?” Neal asked.

“I don’t know. But I can do it.”

“A dictionary is fine, if you think you need it.” Gold said, with all the confidence of a man who had probably memorized every word combo there was.

“Cool. I’ll settle any disputes, too, and side with Belle only most of the time.”

“How generous.” Gold took a sip of his wine. “You can go first,“ he offered. “First word is an automatic double score.”

Ruby hummed, narrowing her eyes at her letters. “Beat this,” she said, cheerfully sarcastic. In the middle of the board, she placed the word TREAT. “Double score, yeah? Ten points.”

Neal, the designated score keeper, gave her a look.

“What? That’s five letters.”

“They’re all one point, though. You can’t waste a double score square on one point letters.”

Ruby scoffed. “I only have one point letters. Give me a break.”

“All right, all right,” Neal said, writing her total under her name. “Papa, you’re next.”

“No need to worry, Miss Lucas, I also only have one point letters.” He moved a tile over on his tray once, twice. With careful precision, he layed all seven tiles vertically, spelling LATEENER.

Ruby groaned. “Neal and I are a team.”

“Oh, this is only...forty-four points,” Neal said around a laugh. “Easy to catch up to.”

“Oh, sure, easy,” Ruby said. “It’s easy to go up against two walking word processors.”

“Says the girl with the smartphone.”

While they were busy, Belle played her word: ARMORIAL. “That's sixty-six points by my count,” she said, reaching for the bag containing the extra tiles.

Ruby gave the board a pointed look. “Do you want to team up or not?” she asked.

Neal looked at his letters. He laid out RAKE, for fifteen points. “Yeah, alright,” Neal said.

“There, see? We have a chance now.”

* * *

They did not have a chance.

“'Adobo' is not a real word, Gold.”

“You’re the one with the dictionary, dearie.”

“Its a type of food,” said Belle helpfully. “Filipino, I believe. A chicken dish. Or Pork.” She scrunched her nose at Gold. “And you took my spot.”

He smiled at her, gold tooth gleaming. “My sincere apologies.”

“Yet you side with him,” Ruby sighed.

“It's called integrity,” Neal muttered, frowning at his letters.

“And whose side are you on?” Ruby laughed. She popped a cracker into her mouth.

“Probably for the best,” Belle said to Gold, playing VIVID for thirty-two points.

“That puts her in the lead,” Neal said.

Gold moved a tile or two on his rack. “By how much?” he asked.

“Eleven points,” he said.

“How far behind are you and Ruby?” Belle asked, trying very hard not to sound like a poor winner.

“By enough,” Ruby said before Neal could answer. “Even putting our scores together, we’re not a match for you.”

Belle had a feeling they weren’t trying that hard. With the exception of Ruby’s first turn, most of the words they played were only three or four letters. It would have been boring, even frustrating, if not for Gold. He had caught up to her quickly, and they’d been neck and neck since.

While she waited for Neal to make his next move, she watched Gold’s long fingers shift the tiles around while he plotted. His gaze went back and forth from the board to his tray, brow furrowed in perfect concentration. The waiting was usually her least favorite part of the game, but she also didn't usually have such a nice view.

His eyes met hers over the board, brown and bottomless. Instead of flittering away, she held his gaze. She could fall right into him, sink all the way down. She wouldn’t resurface for days.

The sound of tiles settling drew her attention away.

“AND,” Neal read. “Four points.”

Belle bit back her sigh. With that disappointing word, it was the start of a new round. Before Ruby could make her move, Belle said, “I bet I can keep the lead.” Gold’s eyes met hers again. Feeling bold, brave, she said, “I can win, too. By a lot more than eleven points.”

“You think so, hm?” He looked intrigued. “Care to wager on that?”

“That depends on what I get when I win.”

Gold opened his mouth, answer on the tip of his tongue, but seemed to think better of it. “Depends on what you want,” he said instead, tongue licking his bottom lip.

Belle’s eyes followed the movement. What was it like to kiss him?

From there, It was easy to imagine Gold between her legs. It’s where her thoughts often ended up. His hands—rough or smooth?—sliding from her thighs to her hips, sliding under her for leverage as his mouth worked over her mound. She was sure it’d be good, sure it’d be—thorough. His tongue reaching all the secret parts of her. She shifted, rubbing her legs together beneath her skirt, her tights sliding against the wood of the chair. How would he react, if she asked him for that?

He leaned forward, as if drawn in by her, his eyes not leaving her face, as if he could read her train of thought on her face. That would have made her blush before, but she wasn’t blushing now.

Ruby’s phone dinged, making them both jump. Red rapidly spread over Belle’s face and down her neck. Embarrassment crowded in like an acquaintance that refused to be avoided. Gold coughed, turning away to spare her. 

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, standing up. “I need the restroom.”

“Third door on the left,” Neal said to her retreating back as she slipped from the room.

Gold said nothing, instead stared at his tiles.

“Dorothy’s stuck,” Ruby said.

Gold blinked, adrift. He glanced at her phone. “Miss Gale.”

“Her car hit a snowbank and she’s—" Ruby shrugged “—stuck.”

“That’s bad,” Neal said, nodding. “She can’t be left out in this weather. You should go get her.” His voice was stilted, which was odd enough, but he was nodding like a bobble head.

“Hold on,” Gold said.

“Yes, I should,” Ruby agreed. “But I walked here, since Granny has the car. It’s her cribbage night, you know.” She was talking fast enough that Gold almost didn’t catch what she was saying.

“I insist on driving you, then. We will take my truck. It has four-wheel drive, so it won’t get caught in a snowbank.”

Ruby swallowed what was left of her wine, following as Neal stood up.

“It’s decided then.”

“What about Miss French?” Gold asked. “Our game—“

“Oh, you two can duke it out for a winner, right?”

“I’ll call you, Papa,” Neal yelled from the foyer.

And just like that, Gold was alone at the table.

* * *

Belle felt marginally steadier when she left the bathroom.

She was a little less so when she returned to the dining room to see Gold alone.

“Are they in the kitchen?” Belle asked, taking her seat. Ruby had polished off the fruit and cheese, and it was as good a time as any for a break.

“Um. No.”

Belle waited for an explanation, but Gold didn’t seem inclined to give her one.

“Is everything okay?”

“Something came up,” he finally said. “Miss Gale? She’s having some difficulty with the weather. Apparently.”

“Dorothy? What do you mean, what happened?”

“She messaged Ruby, and her car is stuck in the snow.”

“In the whole three inches that have fallen today?” Belle asked, frowning. But that wasn’t the only thing fishy. “Besides, Dorothy is in Kansas, visiting her aunt.” She had a deep and sudden urge to pound her head against the table. “Do you feel like we’ve been set up?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gold said after a moment. “It does feel that way.” He looked from the game board, half-finished, to his wine glass, half-drunk. His shoulders sagged, and he looked like a balloon someone had let go of; deflated and limp. “Would you allow me to drive you home, Miss French?” he asked, not meeting her eyes.

She didn’t want to go home, was her immediate thought. This was the most fun she’d had in a long time. It wasn’t just the game, or that Gold could keep up with her. She felt that pull again, that sensation that bubbled in her chest whenever Gold was near.

Hoping this was the right answer, she said, “You’re not getting out of this that easily. We have a game to finish.”

She watched the relieved smile bloom on his face, like a flower when placed in the sunlight.

“You’ll find I’m not that easy to beat.”

“I’m counting on it.” She took a sip from her wine glass. “It’s your turn, Mr. Gold.”

“Rumple,” he said.

“How many points?” She reached over into Neal’s spot for the scorecard. At least he was good at keeping score, if not subtly.

“No, that’s—“ he swallowed. “That’s my name. A nickname. That is—you don’t have to—“

“Rumple,” she said, rolling it around her mouth. She nodded. It suited him, in a strange way.

He smiled, looking at her expectantly, almost hopefully.

Her lip twitched. “It’s your turn, Rumple,” she said, knowing that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Yes, of course, Miss French,” he emphasized, drawing out the consonants. “Whatever you say, Miss French.”

She laughed. “Yes, of course you can call me Belle.”

“Thank you, Belle.”

“Your turn, Rumple,” she said again.

His bashful smile was a beautiful thing, as was his pride as he laid out his word: QUICK.

“Fifty-four points,” Belle counted, writing it down. “Impressive.”

He bowed his head, rolling his hand in a gesture that made Belle think of a bowing knight. She found it suited him much better than the town’s branding of ‘beast.’

Belle looked at her tray.

“You never told me what you wanted,” he said after a few moments of Belle deliberating her next move.

 _Sexual_ _favors_ , Belle did not say. Just like that, all her thoughts from before came rushing back. “Uh, I’ll decide when I win.”

‘You seem awfully confident. What do I get if I’m the winner?”

“Anything you want,” Belle said without thinking.

“Anything?” His eyes trailed from her face down her neck, down down down. She was sure it would have gone lower still had the table not been in the way. “I’ll remind you that you said that.”

Belle shivered. As if she’d need it. Anything he wanted was his.

She cleared her throat, trying to focus. The A from Neal’s last move was open, she could use that. She moved an R to the front of her tray, next to an O. Belle felt her breath catch when she saw it.

Did she dare?

It would be mortifying—instant death, even—if the move wasn’t received well. It’d be hard to pass it off as a joke, and it was doubtful that he’d take it as one.

But.

If this succeeded, the reward was unimaginable.

“I think the winner should get this,” she said, very proud that her voice was smooth, confident.

Rumple seemed curious. “Is that so?”

“Yes, definitely.” Being brave had her gotten this far. She placed the tiles, careful to not disturb the ones already on the board.

ORAL. Five points.

Belle watched as Gold read the word, then read it again. The seconds passed.

“Oh,” he croaked.

That wasn’t quite the reaction she had hoped for. She bit her lip.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” she asked, her voice low. She hadn’t wanted to push him too far, too soon.

“No, no not at all. I just don’t…” He swallowed. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want.”

Belle furrowed her brow. “Since I’m the one offering, and since you are now,” she looked down at the scorecard, doing some quick subtraction. “Thirty-eight points ahead of me—“

“I haven’t won yet,“ he was quick to remind her. “Still plenty of time for you to catch up.”

At least he wasn’t upset, she tried to tell herself. At least he wasn’t asking her to leave. “I did say you could ask for anything,” she said, voice quiet.

“I was going to ask for dinner, and maybe a kiss on the cheek when I took you home.”

“A kiss on the cheek?” she repeated. Her insides bubbled. Oh, this charming man. “That’s all you want from me?”

“No,” he admitted, voice strangled. “But it’s all I’d dare ask for.”

“Well lucky for you, you don’t have to ask.”

She watched his throat bob. “Yes,” he said faintly. “Lucky me.”

“Do you agree to the terms?” Belle hoped she sounded coy, but wasn’t sure she nailed it. “Because if you’d rather wait until after a few dates, we can. I don’t want to pressure you.”

Belle saw something relax on his face. She wasn’t sure if it was the way out she offered, or that she had promised more than one date, but it was still good to see.

“Winner receives oral sex,” Rumple said, sounding much more himself then he did a moment ago.

Belle smiled, excitement making her giddy. “Deal.”

“My turn, hm?” Rumple looked at his tray. Moments passed, long and unsteady. He moved his letters around. His eyes flickered to her, then back down. He stared at the tiles so intently, Belle was impressed they didn’t start smoking.

“You’re overthinking this.” Belle could see the gears turning in his head, wondering what the right move was. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to lose or win. “Okay, this bet? It’s off the table.”

He couldn’t quite hide his disappointment. “I see. I understand—“ Rumple cut himself off when she pushed her chair back and ducked under the table. “—Belle?”

“Grab Ruby’s tray.”

“Uh—“

Even in the shadows, as was the only thing below Rumple’s grand dining room table, Belle could see her face reflected in his shoes. She smiled at herself, then loosely grabbed hold of Gold’s good ankle. She pressed her thumb against the joint.

“Scoot forward a little,” she ordered. “Do you have the extra letters?”

“Ye-Yes.” Above her head, Belle heard the faintest sound of something sliding across the wood.

Belle ran her hands up his calves, then down his shins. Up his shins, down his calves. His legs were warm, the fabric of his trousers sleek. He opened his legs wider, and oh, didn’t she fit nicely between them. Speaking of between them, there was an obvious tent, already. She bit her lip, pleased.

“You have quite the way with words, Rumple,” she said, hands on his knees. “Let’s see how good you are when you’re distracted.”

He groaned like he was in pain, the sound going straight to the spot between her own legs. With a solid pressure, she ran her hands up his thighs, to his belt. She carefully worked him out of it.

“You have fourteen letters to play with,” Belle said conversationally. “More than enough.” Instead of unzipping him, she cupped his cock in her hand, the heat scorching. Her other hand went to the base, then lower, looking for—yes, there they were. She gave his balls a squeeze as best she could through his clothes, delighting in the jolt of his hips as he pressed himself closer.

“Belle, please.”

“Tell me what new letters you have.”

Another groan. Then, “She had the Z, plus two Os. An A, an R.”

She unzipped him in reward. “What words could you make with that?”

“I have, ah, ZOO. ZIT. ZOA. I don’t see a space on the board though,” he panted.

She reached inside, drawing his cock out of his pants. Rumple moaned in relief at being freed. “Don’t worry about the board. What other words?” She circled her finger around the head, smearing his precome.

“TEA, TEE, TIE, TOE,” he fired off in quick succession.

She clucked her tongue. “Those are all three letters,” she said. “I expected more from you, Mr. Gold.”

“I’m a little distracted, Miss French.”

“Oh, you want me to stop.”

“No!” His voice was three octaves higher than usual. “Fuck, Belle, _please_ , don’t stop.”

She kissed his tip. He whined, but didn’t buck. She pressed more kisses around his head, down his length. She could feel the strain in his hips, the restraint he had. She wondered briefly what it would feel like if that restraint snapped; maybe his hands would bury in her hair, and he’d pull her close, hold himself in her mouth, in her throat. Maybe he’d even thrust, pressing himself deeper, deep enough that all she could taste would be him.

She licked her lips. Later. For now, she said, “Your words, Rumple.”

“TZAR,” he said, “Please, fuck, OORIE, HAZEL.”

“Very good.” Another kiss to his tip. She gave another, but open mouthed, and then his spongy head was on her tongue, her lips around him, his taste spreading, pungent and perfect. She sucked.

His fist hit the table, the tiles rattling.

“Rumple,” she admonished.

“Sorry.”

She hummed, running her hand up and down his shaft. She rubbed his hip with the other, trailing up to his pelvis, then down. He had too many clothes on, and for a moment she resented her game, but there would be time to explore him properly later.

After a few passes, his hips bucked. She made a noise of inquiry.

“Belle, please,” he said.

“What’s the longest word you can make?”

She kissed his length again before opening her mouth, swallowing as much of him as she comfortably could. His cock was so hot, so sweet on her tongue.

She almost missed it when he said, “REALIZE, no, TOTALIZER. It’s TOTALIZER.”

She worked him, mouth and hands together, back and forth and sucking and squeezing, and Rumple was moaning, then his hands were looking for her, he couldn’t see her, but he was saying, please, Belle, he was there, she didn’t have to, _please_ —

He came into her mouth. He groaned her name, hand finding her hair. Then he was using his good foot to push his chair back. The legs scraped against the hardwood. He cupped Belle’s elbow, lifting her up up up, hand in her hair tilting her head, and then he was kissing her.

Gold gasped—she hadn’t swallowed. She hadn’t swallowed and his tongue was in her mouth, and he was pulling her closer, hungry for the come he had given her, for the taste of them together—

Belle drew back, white spots appearing in her vision. Gold followed, his lips chasing hers, his need for air paling in his need for her.

She giggled, evading him. She didn't go far though, nuzzling his neck. Belle took a deep breath, feeling warm. Gold’s arms were around her, and she never wanted to leave his lap.

“So that was good then,” she said when her heart rate settled.

“More than—fuck. You’re perfect, you know that? The embodiment of light itself. Just your smile is a gift, let alone—Belle,” he whined, kissing her again.

"You’re pretty perfect, too.” She wrapped her arms around him, keeping him close.

Peeking behind her, she said, “It appears you’ve wrecked our board.”

“Screw the board,” he growled, unrepentant. 

Belle laughed, biting her lip. “I’d rather you screw me.”

With a heated look, he swept his arm across the table, tiles scattering. Belle squealed when he lifted her by the hips so her arse was on the edge of the table. “It’s your turn, my dear,” he said, leaving sucking kisses down her neck.

She moaned, legs falling open. She was happy to call this a draw.

* * *

Neal had kept his word, and called his father. Tried to, at least. It was around eleven when Neal figured the game had ended, or his father had struck out in scoring a date. There was an equal chance of both things happening.

When his call rolled over to voicemail, he took it as a sign that Papa was piqued at having been set up. Always careful about when he was too upset, Neal could count on a partially amputated hand the number of times his father had raised his voice at him.

Better to leave this confrontation for the morning.

He had slept at the inn, Ruby coming to the same conclusion he had when Belle hadn’t picked up either. “We tried,” she said, toasting him with a beer bottle as they sat in the empty diner that night. “Nothing else to do now but try again.”

He wasn’t so sure about that one.

Regardless, Neal entered the house, fresh pastries and a travel case of two coffees in hand, courtesy of Ruby. He was about to shrug out of his coat when he saw it; a bright blue pea coat, already hanging. Right where it was last time he saw it. Last night.

He looked at the coffees, as if the plastic lids held the answer of what one was supposed to do when potentially running across…his father’s girlfriend? Is that what this made her?

Neal quickly decided it was above his pay grade and not his business. Just because Belle might still be here didn’t mean anything happened; it was snowing and they had both been drinking, it made sense that Papa would insist she stay the night.

He shook his head at himself. He wished he had the foresight to get more provisions from Ruby. Neal walked into the dining room, plans of braving his father’s high tech coffee pot that neither of them knew how to use already forming in his head, when—

”What the fuck,” he said before he could stop himself.

The Scrabble board was against the wall, as if someone had thrown it, and letters lay scattered all over the floor, as if swept off to make room on the table for something else.

And he knew exactly what that something else was, if the piled clothing was anything to go by.

But the table was where he ate. He had done homework there. For years.

“Neal?” Called a groggy voice from the den. From the couch. That Neal used. _They didn’t even make it to his bedroom_ , he thought in horror.

“Papa.” He set the pastries and coffee on the table. It was too early in the morning, and it would be better for everyone if he was somewhere else. Immediately. “Coffee’s here. I’m going back to the inn.”

“What’s’at?”

That was definitely not his papa’s voice.

He heard the wet smacking of lips, a pleased hum.

“Why, good morning,”

“What’s say we make it a great one?”

And that was all the insight Neal ever needed into his father’s sex life. Without another word, he turned right around and walked out of the dining room. Just as he was about the close the door, he saw the morning paper, thrown up to the porch. He hadn’t noticed it; the opaque, green plastic bag blending in with the painted wood.

Neal remembered the crossword, why he and Ruby had done all this to begin with. He’d tell her a second try wasn’t needed after all. She’d get a kick out of it, and hopefully share some good disinfecting tips with him.

He hung the newspaper by its bag next to Belle’s blue coat.

The weirdos could do what they wanted with it.


End file.
